men of blood,
we are the fruit of l___,
filled with sin, death and despair
burning straw,
this is a harrowing month;
our dreams the smoke that fills air

there's blood on my hands
i can't clean them
there's blood

son of man,
i give these words to eat,
bitter wine for you to drink
four months full
the rain leaves nothing left
but the roots go deeper than you think

there's blood on my hands
i can't clean them
there's blood

a kiss,
please don't forget the signs i've shown
a heel to bruise your head
the last i hope

we're to blame for all the marks on you

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